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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200648">An Ordinary Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielgirl/pseuds/Gabrielgirl'>Gabrielgirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Married Life, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:27:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielgirl/pseuds/Gabrielgirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes of Erik and Christine's married life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Daaé &amp; Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Ordinary Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sometimes I get little ideas for these two that don't really have enough substance to develop into a full story. This work will be a gathering of those ideas, so other than the first chapter they will be pretty short. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Erik was irritable, out of sorts, and struggling to orient himself to time and place. He had just spent a delirious two weeks immersed in Don Juan, followed by four days of unbroken sleep. On the fifth, he had been jolted awake by the horrific realization that he had been absent during a critical operatic decision.</p><p>Four spots in the chorus had recently been vacated - two sopranos, an alto, and a tenor - and required immediate replacement. Apparently the three ladies had all found themselves in the family way, and in each case the culprit was the tenor. He had dutifully promised marriage to each of them, then promptly skipped town.</p><p>The auditions had only just begun when Erik had slipped into his musical trance. Evidently, the spots had been filled during his inadvertent hiatus, and there was no telling just how badly the musical director had bungled it without his guidance. Erik was not looking forward to finding out.</p><p>The scores were to be assigned and distributed that day. While Erik wouldn't hear any singing, he could at least get a glimpse of the new faces.</p><p>Hopefully the new tenor had more sense than the old one.</p><p>...</p><p>He quickly appraised the new hires.</p><p>The new tenor was an older, stolid looking gentleman. No doubt the managers wanted to avoid a situation like the previous one, and had chosen accordingly.</p><p>The alto was a pleasant looking woman with plump cheeks and dark hair. She had the kind of build that indicated a great lung capacity - this could be of value, thought Erik, as the altos generally struggled to balance out the high, cutting notes of the sopranos.</p><p>The first soprano was a pinched, vaguely haughty looking woman, perhaps due to her tall height. She had long, elegant fingers which, to Erik's mind, suggested that she might be more suited to the piano than to singing. But then, of course, he hadn't heard her yet. Perhaps she was adequate.</p><p>The remaining soprano was a young blonde woman.</p><p>The thought that she was attractive bloomed in Erik's mind before he even had the chance to stamp it down.</p><p>At that moment, the musical director called for everyone's attention, and Erik, for the first time in his history at the opera, complied.</p><p>He fought valiantly to focus only on the words of the stuffy director - unfortunately, however, he often found his eyes returning to the young soprano.</p><p>While not exactly striking, there was much to appreciate. High cheekbones balanced the soft contours of her face, and her delicate complexion was enhanced by the barest tint of pink. Her lips were full, and her eyes were kind.</p><p>More intriguing to Erik, however, was that she seemed genuinely interested in the director's pontifications and instructions. She had a thoughtful expression as she quietly scribbled notes into her music sheets. She was the very picture of innocent sincerity.</p><p>Erik sighed. Life in the theatre would not be kind to her.</p><p>...</p><p>His supposition appeared to be born out in the hours that followed. The cast had broken apart, flipping through their pages and chatting amongst themselves, everyone sharing in assorted musical observations or bits of gossip. Everyone, that is, except for the new soprano. She received no invitations to conversation, no permittance to stand near the various clusters of people. No one even seemed to acknowledge her.</p><p>Well, not quite. A few men had briefly eyed her with interest, but her upright bearing and quiet manner seemed to paint her as less, ah, <em>generous</em> with her charms than other girls. Giving her up as a lost cause, the dogs quickly abandoned her to scent out more obvious leads.</p><p>Erik was distressed to realize that he was pleased by this.</p><p>More distressing, however, was how unbothered the girl was by this universal exclusion. She appeared to lack any drive to seek others out, and she contentedly kept to the corners. It seemed unnatural for a girl to be so thoroughly alone.</p><p>Erik's heart went out to her. He simply couldn't help it. What circumstances had led her to be so used to this treatment?</p><p>For a moment, Erik let fantasy play out in his head. He imagined what he would do should he be part of the crowd. He would walk towards her, and a soft smile would form on her lips. They would talk about their parts, cheerful discussion giving way to sweet whispers. He would tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear (it would be so soft), and she would blushingly speak her thanks. Perhaps she would even take his arm as he walked her back to the rehearsal rooms, her hand light and warm against him...</p><p>There. Enough of that. Such fantasies of an ordinary life were only cruel taunts, and he viciously chased them away them. He was mostly successful.</p><p>Mostly.</p><p>...</p><p>An interesting feature of the Opera Garnier was that, for a reduction in wages, it provided room and board to a certain number of staff. It was largely dormitories, such as those used by the younger ballerinas, though there was also the occasional single room available. It happened that the soprano, who's name was apparently Christine Daaé, had chosen to live in one of these single rooms. This meant - not that Erik was paying any attention - that she remained at the Opera even after the cast had been dismissed.</p><p>He had been surprised to discover that, while most continued to ignore her, there were certain exceptions.</p><p>The young children of the ballet absolutely adored her and made no effort to hide it. No doubt this was due to her calm, sweet nature. She had taken efforts to learn all of their names - Erik was shocked to realize that hadn't done so himself, considering the attention he gave everything else. She was generous with her affection and praise, and would listen patiently to their small troubles. She even gave out the occasional sweet.</p><p>Another faction of residents that utterly revered her were those of the animal variety. There were a number of cats in the Opera Garnier, used for pest control. In the mysterious way of cats, Christine seemed to meet some sort of unknown criteria and was Accepted. Erik had seen four cats, so far, sidle up to her, each of whom received affectionate words and a gentle scratch on the chin. Even Danton, a rather old, matted, snaggle-toothed thing who hated every one and every thing, had fallen under her spell, and he received the same tender treatment as the others.</p><p>It was gratifying, thought Erik, to see at least one ugly creature in this world receive some affection.</p><p>In the afternoon, Christine visited the stables. She was announced by a guard dog, whose strong warning barks had been quickly replaced by eager whines upon realizing who his visitor was. The stable hand, a scrawny young lad of around fourteen, let her in with a mumbled greeting before hurrying off to his chores, red all the way to his ears. Ah, well, Erik could not fault him for his taste.</p><p>Christine had brought a small bag of sugar cubes with her. She visited each horse in turn, allowing them to eat from her hand while she stroked their necks. They snuffled and nickered contentedly, clearly at ease in her presence.</p><p>Erik felt an unfamiliar stretch on the muscles of his face. With a shock, he realized that he was smiling.</p><p>...</p><p>In the hours that followed, Erik found himself mulling over his observations. The ever present kindness that Erik had first noticed in her eyes practically sparkled in all of her interactions with the children and animals. For all of that, though, there was still a hint of solemnity in her gaze, the barest trace of melancholy. That, combined with her quiet nature, seemed to be enough to repel her peers, who preferred to revel in the brash gaiety and petty squabbles that defined life in the theatre.</p><p>With horror, Erik realized that his headstrong heart was refusing to listen to reason, refusing to stay shut in the dark cage that he had forged around it years ago. It wanted to reach out, it wanted to let her know she wasn't alone. It wanted...</p><p>He refused to finish that thought.</p><p>...</p><p>The following day, rehearsals began. Erik was always present for the first day of rehearsal, and anyway he needed to assess the new members of the chorus. He was not (was not!) there to engage in curiosity about certain people, and anyway those people did not (did not!) include the new soprano. He was so very much not interested in the soprano that he decided to count the number of crystals that dripped from the chandelier, and when he had finished with those, he switched to the number of floorboards on the stage.</p><p>It was time now for the chorus to sing their part. He supposed it would be acceptable to pay attention, though only an ordinary amount, to the chorus members - after all, wasn't he there to judge their abilities?</p><p>The sopranos weren't more than three notes into their part when Erik's world turned upside down.</p><p>That voice! <em>That voice! </em></p><p>His brain thrummed from all of the thoughts rushing into it. Her technique, though simple, was solid - even the idiot musical director could hear that, and it was no doubt what led to her hire. What the director couldn't hear, what no one but Erik could hear, was the astounding beauty hiding in her voice. The lush resonance, the rich warmth - he could detect it just underneath the surface, straining to break free! Yet there was something containing it, covering it with a veil. Oh, how heavy that veil must be! He recognized it now - how could he not? It was <em>sorrow</em>, a sorrow so deeply rooted into the bones that it permeated her very being, was etched into her very soul. Oh, what could have done it? How could life have disfavored such a sweet girl? If only he could pull back that veil! She needed life, she needed kindness. <em>She needed love!</em> Endless, endless love! He ached to comfort her, to sweep her into his arms, to run his fingers through her hair, to whisper how good she was, how cherished she was, and to ease her suffering with a kiss...</p><p>...</p><p>He softy kissed her forehead, and the brush of his lips on her skin seemed to stir her from sleep.</p><p>"Good morning," he whispered fondly.</p><p>"Mmm, you woke me..." she grumbled into her pillow.</p><p>"You had the most dreadful scowl on your face," he said, reaching over to rub her shoulder. "Nightmare?"</p><p>"Ugh," she rasped, sleep still thick in her throat. "I was surrounded by dirty dishes. For every one I cleaned two more would appear. I became trapped."</p><p>"How ghastly."</p><p>"Mmhm," she breathed.</p><p>Her eyes closed, and he thought she may have drifted off again, when she mumbled, "Erik?"</p><p>"Yes, darling."</p><p>"Do something for me?"</p><p>"Hmm? What's that?"</p><p>"I know it's not your turn, but would you wash the dishes today? I can't bear to face them."</p><p>He chuckled low in his chest.</p><p>"I suppose I must. I vowed for better or for worse, after all...though this is most certainly for the worse."</p><p>She let out a contented sigh.</p><p>His hand slid from her shoulder to her neck, his fingers snaking into her hair, and he purred against her throat.</p><p>"I expect to be repaid for my kindness later."</p><p>Christine lazily snaked an arm over his chest.</p><p>"Depends on how well you do, doesn't it."</p><p>He chuckled again, and nuzzled into her hair.</p><p>Erik had once longed for an ordinary life. He had quickly learned, however, that with Christine by his side, life would always be extraordinary.</p>
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